


Blinded by You

by JadedCoral



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 04:18:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13674126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadedCoral/pseuds/JadedCoral
Summary: Phil's having the worst day of his life.Dan's the kind of guy you'd meet on the worst day of your life.





	Blinded by You

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in forever, so to work off the rust, I wrote a Valentine's fic!

To add a pinch of humour to the otherwise dreadful weather report of pouring rain and strong winds, the meteorologist on his 42-inch TV screen says that despite it being February fourteenth, anything but love seemed to be in the air. Mildly amused by the remark, mostly because Susan had been his only human interaction today and Phil felt like he owed her something for having kept him company, he chuckled out of politeness before shutting her off in order to start and get ready to head out of his apartment.

After all, Phil is an Englishman, and no weather is dreadful enough (with the exception of when it was the main topic of discussion amongst his elderly relatives he sometimes had the misfortune to get caught up in a conversation with for hours on end) for him to avoid facing it head on instead of just covering in his apartment like he had been doing for the best part of the week now. Besides, he was prepared. He has an umbrella, and it wasn’t like he’s made out of sugar.

Five steps outside his apartment building, and Susan’s subdued laugher rings in his memory as a strong gust of wind rips the umbrella right off his hand and carries it to who-knows-where. For a moment he watches it fly to freedom, blinking stupidly, before he has the wits to quickly pull the hood of his sweater over his head and start jogging in the direction of the nearest tube station.

On his way there, he dares to put his dexterity to the test by surprisingly managing to avoid stepping on some puddles that have formed on the ground. In his newly formed arrogance he thinks things will continue to go smoothly until he reaches his destination, but as the ninth puddle comes along, he trips, loses one of his contact lenses as he struggles to keeps his balance, and steps right in the middle of what he was trying to avoid.

The disgusting feeling of cold water seeping into his socks will forever haunt his nightmares.

‘ _It can’t get any worse than this,_ ’ he thinks optimistically as he reaches the station. He’s out to grab just one specific thing from the stores, and he’d be damned if he gave up now after having already faced all these hardships.  

To his further misfortune, the bad weather has driven most commuters underground, leaving the station packed with people. Despite this, he manages to squeeze himself into one of the carriages, feeling moist and steamy as he stands there, pressed against other wet Londoners.

Aiming to do a quick fringe check before the humidity in the carriage blurred the reflection the windows of the tube provided, Phil searched for his own face with the one eye he could still see out of, only to find out to his horror that the rain and wind had managed to give him a rather unattractive quiff.

Just as he desperately wishes he was blind in order to avoid seeing the damage Mother Nature has done to this hair, the tube jolts, some one beside him bumps against him rather violently, thus creating an opportunity for his last remaining contact lens to make its escape and fall down to the feet of a dozen strangers where it will remain for the rest of forever, unsalvageable and out of his reach.

“Sorry,” the stranger who had caused the latest of Phil’s perils has the decency to say.

“Ugh,” Phil groans, closing his eyes and tilting his head up dramatically as if asking the heavens for reasons why this was happening to him. “This must be the worst day of my life.”

“Hashtag relatable, mate,” the other agrees rather dryly, then adding, ”Although, in my defence, I did just apologize for something that wasn’t entirely my fault.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to give you all the glory for ruining it. You just made it worse than it already was,” he replies sincerely in a way he thinks is consoling, but will much later on realise could be taken more as a salty comment of a bitter individual.

“Right,” says the other slowly. “Well I suppose it makes sense. I _am_ the kind of guy you’d meet on the worst day of your life.”

“That sounds a bit dramatic.”

Although Phil can’t see it, he can hear the eye rolling when the guy responds with a, “Says the guy whose entire day I’ve apparently ruined by just accidentally bumping against him in a crowded space.”

“You bumping into me made me lose the last of my contact lenses,” Phil says defensively, holding on to the right to call his day an unsuccessful one. “I’m borderline blind now, thanks to you.”

“Are you actually kidding me?” the other asks in disbelief.

Phil replies with a cheerful, “Nope!” like he’s just won the argument.

A moment of silence follows his exclamation, and for a second, he thinks that’s that for the conversation, but then the other asks with a bit of concern in his voice, “How are you planning on getting by?”

“I guess I just have to rely on my other senses. They might’ve heightened now that my eyesight is gone.”

He is kidding, of course. Phil should have a case with a pair of emergency glasses buried somewhere at the bottom of his rucksack, but currently he doesn’t have enough space around him to first manoeuvre his rucksack from his back and then dig out the pair of glasses. He hopes that as the carriage eventually gets less crowded, he’ll manage to get a seat and then things will be much easier.

“Is that right?” says the other, sounding skeptical.

“Mhm,” Phil nods, then closing his eyes and sniffing around theatrically. “In fact, I think I can smell coffee from a mile away,” then wistfully adding, “Wouldn’t it be great if we had coffee right now?”

Phil can feel the other shift a bit hesitantly, before asking in a flustered voice, “Are- are you asking me out for coffee?”

Opening his eyes, Phil turns to look at the unclear shape beside him. Unable to really read the situation any further, he just shrugs. “Not really, but now that you assumed I kind of feel obliged to ask.”

“No, you don’t have to,” the other laughs awkwardly. “Just leave me to drown in my embarrassment. Please.”

Phil frowns. It almost sounds like the other would have actually liked to go out to have coffee with him. His own primary thoughts at the moment laid in trying to somehow solve his sight-related issues, but if this was the instant a bit of romance was due to come his way, then who was he to deny it?    

Not giving his actions much thought, he leans in close enough to the stranger to be able see his eyes.

“Um, personal space?” the other says, trying to lean back a bit.

“You’re asking for personal space while riding the tube during the rush hour?” Phil asks, before pulling back. He’s satisfied with the shade of brown he had seen. “Anyway, you have a sane enough look in your eyes and seem nice enough, I guess I can trust you won’t turn out to be some kind of a murderer.”

It makes the other mumble something along the lines of, “Wow, you really know how to make a guy feel special,” but Phil pays it no mind.

“This is actually perfect!” he gushes. “I didn’t think I’d have a date this valentine’s day before this, so drop everything you’re doing and come have coffee with me. Also,” he adds as an afterthought before the other has time to respond, “I need someone to guide me out of this human mass.”

After a bit of a stunned silence, the other chuckles, “I’m starting to feel you just wanted to take advantage of my able-sightedness.”

Phil grins in response, tilting his head and not relenting. “Coffee? Yes? No?”

“Aah, why the hell not? I kinda dug this grave for myself anyway,” says his now date.

The agreeable answer makes Phil and a couple of persons clad in business attire who have apparently been listening in on their conversation cheer.

With much difficulty, Phil searches for his date’s hand somewhere on his wait-level, and hold it in his own, saying with a big smile on his face, “I am at your mercy, kind stranger.”

“Dan,” the other introduces himself while trying in vain to not be affected by the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Phil,” says Phil and squeezes the hand in his in an attempt of a handshake, only, he doesn’t intent to let go after the introductions.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you made this my treat,” Dan complains as he places the tray that has their coffee and goodies on the table where he had left Phil waiting.

“The cappuccino better have a heart on it. Tell me the cappuccino has a heart on it!” Phil demands instead of addressing the accusations directed his way.

He does appreciate Dan for doing all this for him. Phil still has his other hand buried deep inside his rucksack, trying to locate the extra pair of glasses he should have and before he finds them, he is pretty much unable to do as mundane a task as choosing something delicious to eat at the café Dan had chosen for their date.

“The cappuccino does not have a heart on it,” says Dan with a mouthful of something that smell mildly like vanilla. “Here, give me that. Watching you go through it is painful. What are we looking for?”

Phil gladly lets Dan take his rucksack from him, opting to have a taste of whatever treat the other had chosen for him instead.

“A black casket with glasses in it,” he replies, before sinking his teeth into what turns out to be a cinnamon roll, signing dreamily, “I think I love you.”  

“Sure you do,” the other mumbles, his blushing intensifying when three girls on the table next to them giggle at Phil’s antics. “Don’t wear your heart on your sleeve. It’s just a cinnamon roll.”

“ _And_ a cappuccino,” he says smiling widely, pocking at Dan’s ankles underneath the table to tease him some.

“Well it’ll be your treat next time,” Dan replies moodily, before realizing what he had just implied. To avoid possible confrontation and teasing, he pulls his hand out of Phil’s rucksack quickly and declares in an unnecessarily loud voice, “I can’t find your glasses! You sure you have them in there?”

Normally Phil wouldn’t have let such a tactless change in topic slide, but this was kind of an important matter they were dealing with. It is entirely possible that the casket had at some point migrated elsewhere from his rucksack. After all, it had been a while since he had last checked it was there.

Putting his face in his hands, Phil shakes his head and despairs, “Oh man, what am I gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” Dan replies unhelpfully while taking a sip of his hot beverage. “It’s not like I have a backup plan’s backup plan for when I go blind.”

Keeping his head low for a moment longer, Phil processes his situation and comes to the conclusion that without Dan, his situation would probably be a lot more frightening. “Oh well,” he sighs and turns to look at the little he can see of his date. “I guess you’ll just have to take me home then.”

“Wait a minute,” Dan protests. “You could at least check my availability first. And what makes you think I’d follow a guy home or vice versa after the first date? I’m not _that_ easy.”

“Are you kidding me?” Phil says in wonderment. “You’re the easiest guy I’ve ever met.”

The thing is, Phil means every word of what he just said. He doesn’t usually feel this relaxed around strangers, nor do strangers usually respond so well to whatever words decided to leave his mouth. Dan seems to be an exception to a rule, and it is something Phil can truly appreciate about him.

And even if Dan might have a hunch of what was behind Phil’s sincerity, he still huffs, “This guy…” like he’s slightly insulted, while trying to cover the smile forming on his face with his hand.

“Besides,” Phil continues, not understanding the many ways his previous statement could be taken. “If you had enough time for a spontaneous coffee date, then I assume you’ll have plenty of time to take me back home as well. I don’t live that far.”

“And _I_ assume you mean well even though it sure as hell doesn’t sound like it at times,” Dan comments with growing humour in his tone.

“Of course I mean well. What made you think otherwise?” Phil asks, tilting his head to the side in genuine confusion.

“Never mind,” Dan says, waving a blurry hand in order to dismiss the subject. “I guess I have no choice but to take you home.”

Phil pumps his fist in the air to celebrate this small victory, enjoying the way it makes Dan laugh.

 

* * *

 

“You can take off your shoes and sit down on the couch while I search for my eyesight,” Phil instructs Dan once he’s managed to get the front door open.

“You sure you don’t need help with that as well?” he can hear Dan holler from behind him, missing the way the other seems to be mocking him.

“I’m good, thanks! I can navigate my own flat well enough!”

He stumbles into his bedroom, almost tripping on some clothes on the floor, but finally, from the drawer of his bedside table, Phil finds a pair of black-framed glasses that bring clarity to his surroundings.

“Yass,” he says to himself, relishing the feeling of being able to see, then deciding to also change his wet socks to a pair of dry ones, before he remembers he has a guest in his living room he promised to return to as soon as he found what he had gone to search for.

As quietly as he can, he peeks into the living room to get a real glimpse of Dan. He’s sitting on the couch as instructed, his back facing Phil and face staring intently at his phone. All Phil can tell from this angle is that he has brown, curly hair and a preference for dark clothing.

Like he can sense the eyes staring at the back of his head, Dan turns around to look at Phil, raising an eyebrow when he sees him hovering at the doorway. “What are you doing creeping around over there?”

Phil takes a moment to just stare, before reacting with a bit of a delay by simply saying, “Whoa.”

“W-what?” Dan asks, seemingly a bit unnerved by being under scrutiny, hand going to smoothen out his curly hair out of some nervous habit.

“You’re gorgeous?” Phil says, having the decency to finally feel a bit embarrassed by his own tactlessness.

“Why the intonation at the end?” Dan demands with a blush matching Phil’s.

“Sorry, it’s just that I didn’t actually know what you looked like before now,” he tries to explain his reaction away.

Hiding his face behind his hands, Dan mumbles something Phil can barely hear, “Well, you're not exactly hideous yourself.”

“Not even with this quiff?” he says grinning and pointing at his hair he had yet to fix.

“I’m not one to judge, just look at what the moistness did to my hair.” They both run their fingers through their hair, trying to get it to look what they deem is normal, but to no avail. When Dan catches Phil staring at the state of him and then inhale like he’s about to say something, he beats him to it and says sharply, “And don’t say curls looks good on me.”

Shutting his mouth, Phil swallows the comment concerning Dan’s cuteness he was about to make and scans the room for a quick change in topic. His eyes land on the consols underneath his TV stand, so he just points at them and suggests, “Hey, you want to play something?”

“Sure, as long as it’s not home we’re playing I’m up for anything,” Dan says, making room for Phil on the couch once he’s done starting some racing game that makes Dan’s eyes shine victoriously. “Oh, you’re going down, _pal_.”

Phil just smiles at the other’s enthusiasms and lets Dan press unnecessarily close to him as he gets more and more into the game. By the end of round three he’s so completely smitten that once Dan’s fed up beating him on every round, Phil might just suggest they play home instead.

 

* * *

 

Susan’s voice penetrates his layers of sleep as she cheerily promises another perfectly rainy day for the third of July. Groaning, Phil shifts his head on his pillow, going through the pros and cons of having to wake up, before concluding that whether or not Susan’s predictions held true, it was probably more productive to greet the day in the earlier hours.

So he yawns, stretches and rubs crust from the corner of his eyes, before reaching out to snatch his glasses from the bedside table. Usually he manages to grab them with three attempts max, but today his hand just lands on empty space and objects meant for other purposes.

“Ugh,” he moans, taking a time out by letting his hand flop heavily on the bed. After a moment he makes another valiant attempt to grab his glasses, but just can’t find them.

“Dan!” he calls out, though his shout gets muffled by the pillow he’s pressing his face into. When there’s no answer, Phil rolls to lay on his side and tries again. “Dan, I can’t see, send help!”

He takes his sweet time, but finally Phil can see the blurry figure of his salvation at the doorway.

“What is it?” he asks through a mouthful of cereal.

“Can you hand my glasses to me, please?” Phil requests, waving his hand in the general direction his glasses should be in.

Dan tsks and heads over to the nightstand, muttering, “they’re literally right _there_. Honestly, this guy...”

Turning to lie on his back, Phil just smiles and lets the other complain, expecting to receive his eyesight once Dan has picked the black frames from an area Phil’s hand hadn’t landed on during his search.

He doesn’t give them back right away, though. Instead he hovers above Phil and says, “I expect payment for my services.”

“I’ll pay you in kisses,” Phil says lazily, not excepting it to be sufficient payment since Dan never had to work for his kisses before. But to his surprise, Dan leans down and snatches one off his lips before he has the wits to respond, and slides the glasses on Phil face, enabling him to see a wide smile and tinted cheeks.

“You’re welcome,” he says cheekily, before attempting to straighten his back in order to return to the living room to probably eat the rest of his cereal in front of his laptop, but Phil pulls him back down on the bed with him before he can leave.

“I said kisses. In plural,” Phil murmurs against Dan’s ear, before proceeding to press as many on his skin and lips as he possibly can until Dan’s a laughing mess.

In the end, Phil doesn’t end up having a very productive day at all. In fact, he spends all of it indoors, making their home with Dan by unpacking the last of his boxes, whilst blissfully unaware of the heavy rain beating on their windows.

Susan could keep her foul weather, because inside this apartment, love was definitely in the air.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this was an enjoyable read.  
> Feel free to drop some kudos and comments! :)


End file.
